


The First Time

by averageclawenfangirl



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Clawen, F/M, First Meetings, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 06:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7628257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averageclawenfangirl/pseuds/averageclawenfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off a Tumblr prompt I received: Owen walks in on Claire dancing to 'Come and Get Your Love'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> So I took this prompt and flipped it totally because I had an idea and ran away with it *sigh* this is just something short and silly. Enjoy!

Claire thought for a while of all the better ways she could have been using her time. She _could_ have taken up Vivian and Zara’s offer of Friday night drinks - which she usually always declined - at SunRio. She _could_ have finished the revenue report that had been causing her a headache for days. She could _even_ have called her sister, something she’d been meaning to do for weeks now, and ask how divorced life was suiting her. Instead, she was gripping the wheel of her Mercedes tightly as she sped away from the resort, the dirt track leading her to some godforsaken bungalow on the other side of the island.

InGen’s latest batch of recruits had trouped into her office that morning; Claire interviewing them one by one to ensure they were ready to take on everything Jurassic World had to offer. The sister company were developing something Claire only knew as Project IBRIS, and she couldn’t help but feel a little intrigued judging by the faces who came through the door. Ex-military men with shady pasts they couldn’t discuss.. It didn’t sit well with her. She had just shown Barry Dumont out of the door - a kindly man with a twinkle in his eye - when Claire realised one recruit hadn’t shown himself. 

_Owen Grady_. She ran a check on his status, and saw that he had indeed boarded the ferry on the mainland, and had definitely arrived on Isla Nublar. She sighed heavily. _There was always one._ One new employee who thought he was a cut above the rest, someone who thought they didn’t have to obey the rules. She rubbed her temples in exasperation. Claire wasn’t in the mood for another Victor Hoskins. _One arrogant asshole per dinosaur-filled theme park, please._ She flicked through his file; saw that the errant Mr Grady had of course chosen residence away from the employee village. Snatching her keys from the desk, Claire told Zara of her plans when she left, her assistant smiling at the thought of the ass-kicking the new recruit was bound to receive. 

//

Friday evenings during the low season tended to be quiet; and in any other situation, Claire would have stopped for a moment to enjoy the view. Way out here, the constant hum of people vanished, only the sounds of the animals occasionally shattering the peaceful silence. The stars began to glimmer in the twilight sky, another day on the island drawing to a close. Stashing her keys in her blazer pocket, Claire fetched the file from her passenger seat, ensuring for the last time she had the right address. The bungalow looked actually rather homely; a motorcycle propped up against the decking, dim lights glowing from the inside. _Someone was home, then._ That was a start. 

Groaning internally as her heels sunk a little in the grass, Claire walked as purposefully as possible towards the stairs, wondering exactly how Mr Grady would defend himself against her accusations of his carelessness. His first day, and he’d already failed to show for a necessary induction. Claire paused, her hand raised above the door. She could hear music; a voice singing along inside the depths of the bungalow. A 70’s song, she was sure; one she faintly remembered her father singing along to years ago. Claire knocked, waited; still the singing continued, music blaring. She knocked twice more, before the little patience she had evaporated. 

Claire pushed the door a little, both pleased and shocked to find it unlocked, and stepped through. “Hello? Mr Grady? I -” she began to say, eyes swivelling round the bungalow. A man was stood in the open plan kitchen, facing away from her. He was clearly cooking something; dancing and singing away. He was naked, too. Completely and utterly in the nude. “ _Come and get your -_ ” he sang as he turned, and Claire watched his eyes widen before her hands covered her own. She squealed in shock, the file clattering to the floor. _Holy fucking shit. He was naked!_ “Jeez, lady! Ain’t you ever heard of _knockin_ ’?!” She heard him yell indignantly as he turned down the music. 

“Haven’t you ever heard of locking your door? Or even wearing _clothes_?!” Claire spluttered, hands still clamped firmly over her eyes. “It’s Central America!” He argued back, “it’s hot!” Claire tutted in frustration, her cheeks still burning from embarrassment. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You can open your eyes now,” she heard him mutter. Claire removed her hands cautiously, his promise good and true. He’d wrapped a towel around his waist, extending a hand wearily to her. “Owen Grady, I presume?” She asked, exasperated. “The one and only, baby,” he chuckled, laughter in his eyes. 

Owen Grady was tall; tanned, with tousled dark blonde hair. His green eyes; fringed with black, watched her intently, set back beneath a brow in a way that rose with humour. His barrelled chest bore scars, muscled biceps decorated with tattoos. His body was chiselled, sculpted; his face adorned with a little hair slipping messily over his jaw. He was incredibly sexy, and Claire was furious. “Do you have _any_ idea who you’re talking to?” She demanded, offended by his tone. “No,” he mused, “but I can tell I’m in trouble.” 

“I’m Senior Operations Manager here at Jurassic World,” Claire said simply, “and you failed to show for your induction earlier today.” She greatly enjoyed watching the colour drain from Owen’s face a little as he swallowed. “Oh, _shoot_ ,” he murmured miserably. “Indeed, Mr Grady,” she smiled serenely, enjoying the upper hand. “I thought - I thought you’d be -” Owen stuttered, before Claire interrupted him. “Older? A _man_ , perhaps?” She asked sweetly, Owen’s eyebrows raising. The smirk was back; yet there was something different behind it this time. _Admiration. Respect._ “You’re better than anything I could’ve hoped for,” he muttered huskily, his eyes darkening, travelling over her body.

Claire suddenly felt conscious in her white business suit; she felt stripped bare by his gaze, and she could tell he liked what he saw. _To hell with that_. She was the one that had caught him unawares; the switch in dominance something she was keen to reverse. “That sort of thing doesn’t work on me,” Claire remarked, staring into his face unwaveringly. He laughed, then, folding his arms over one another; muscles taught under his skin in a way Claire tried to ignore. “It was worth a shot,” he shrugged. Claire rolled her eyes, severely unimpressed by his demeanour. _Yeah, so he’s gorgeous. But he’s an asshole, just like the rest of them._

“You’ll need an attitude adjustment - and fast - if you wish to keep your position here,” she said sternly. Owen was grinning now, smile splitting from ear to ear. Claire fought to keep her cool, enraged by his audacity. “Duly noted, Ms…?” He asked, eyebrow raising. “Dearing,” she said firmly, “Claire Dearing.” Owen repeated her name with a tone of interest, syllables rolling off his tongue with ease. “You’ll come to the Control Room at 9am tomorrow morning, and we’ll complete your induction then. I don’t do second chances - you’re late, you’re out,” she emphasised, and Owen nodded earnestly. 

Claire turned on her heel, keen to get away from his excruciatingly beautiful naked torso and blistering gaze. She went careful on the steps as she heard Owen following her, keen not to twist her ankle in her heels. It wouldn’t do to embarrass herself, though she was sure he had no qualms - Claire had just seen the man without a stitch of clothing on, the image burned into her memory. “So you and I will be seeing a lot of one another, then?” She heard him drawl. 

Claire turned once her feet were on the grass again, to find him leaning against the door jamb, still clad in just a towel. “If you’re lucky, Mr Grady,” she shrugged. He winked, and turned inside once more, screen door banging shut behind him. Claire almost clapped her hand to her forehead in frustration, her knees weakening a little at the sight of him. _What was that?! Was she_ flirting?! _Surely not. He was nothing but trouble. Right?_


End file.
